teacup girl
by aviatorgirl
Summary: She lived the life of thundering music, vibrant colours and confetti. All that was left of that girl that could've been was old rusty bones and the smell of wilting flowers. (REBEKAH SOLO PIECE, sides of Mattbekah).


**DISCLAMIER: I do not own The Vampire Diaries, nor do I own any of its characters. **

Top of Form

She was a broken girl. Filled with chipped teacup pieces and stains of dark cranberry juice. She was one of those girls that dreamed for everyday clichés so much, that she became permanently attached to them and became them. She was the girl who had stardust under her eyelashes and the girl who admired the drips of gold in the sky. She used to be one of the girls that believed in magic. Until she saw the consequences of magic. And never again, never again would she allow magic to become her. Never again. She was one of those girls that had slivery sunset for hairs and didn't dream of the existence of happiness. She used to be one of those girls that swished around in their pale blue frocks while her brothers would laugh and tease her and tell her to stop acting like a princess. She used to be one of those girls who felt that she had the world in her hand, even after she changed. She thought she was the best, better than everyone else. Immortally beautiful and better yet she was an Original she couldn't be killed. What a fanciful idea. She lived the life of thundering music, vibrant colours and confetti. All that was left of that girl that could've been was old rusty bones and the smell of wilting flowers. She became something else. Maybe it was her need for something different, something human. Or maybe she believed that not being human was one of her problems. But she knew her naivety was gone, her innocence. And her innocence was her, it made her and without it the darkness came overwhelming her. But all the dark things she did, it haunted her and blurred behind closed eyes. Just because she was "evil" didn't mean that she didn't hate the idea that she was evil. Or hated that everyone thought she was evil. Didn't mean she didn't feel the pain of her consequences. But she just didn't know what to do anymore except to try to become human again. (And was that a real big problem? the need to feel actual blood pump through your veins, not the intense need to taste it?) She needed to become human again, she wanted it oh so desperately. Rebekah was broken. And she yearned for redemption. Because in her mind, redemption meant being human.

She had been alone but surrounded with some many people that she felt like she was a contradiction in her own right. Like an ironic pun used in the wrong form. Or some incredibly bad grammar in an eloquent storyline. Now that she thought about it being alone was what she was. She was lonely. And all she yearned for was love, however cliche that sounded. Everything that love was, she wanted it. the handsome princes, the forbidden love, the feeling of incandescence. She thought she had loved Stefan, she thinks maybe she did love him but she knew he never loved her. She felt unlovable. She wanted that feeling of security, the way warmth would wash over you or how someone else's happiness overrides every other notion. She wanted that. And she doesn't think she can achieve that. Well, not without being human. It didn't matter that vampires felt emotions more heightened. She can't understand how you can love someone so ugly and grotesque. How someone could love something so monstrous. How anyone could love her. She used to sigh, puff her face with paint and thick mascara and take a deep breath and face the world again. Because reality hurt and covering it with makeup made it hurt less.

She stared at the teacup on the table. She fingered its delicate china handle and lifted it up into the air, it seemingly real life hanging from her pinky. She admired the old yellowed tea that surrounded the base of the teacup. It gave her a sense of nostalgia. A sense that things might be able to be put back together if you tried hard enough. Or you know, maybe it was just a teacup not washed properly. She noticed more stains, stains of black tea and milk on the edges, a light golden brown. She admired the light blue floral pattern around the rim. She wonders if something is broken can be fixed. She hesitated for a minute before dropping the teacup. She watched passively as it dropped on the floor, it's crash was soft and whimsical. And everything was in slow motion, she saw each shattered white piece crumple to the ground and the handle crack and tumble around the cold, panelled floor. She glanced at the broken china before deftly plucking it from the ground and placing the pieces back onto the table. She squeezed her eyes before getting up from her seat and bringing in the glue. She hoped it was going to work. Mainly because if she could fix a teacup and she was made of broken teacup pieces couldn't she fix herself?

She stared at the fixed teacup. Or well, fixed was maybe a slightly extreme term. It's fine china was edged messily together with thick glue. The glue had at times oozed over and gave the appearance of thick wax. And it jarred the image of frail porcelain. The smooth fine china had deep cracks cut through its fragile layer and the tiny blue blossoms and green petals were intertwined in a mess of incomplete brokenness. She winced when she saw it, in all of its finality. She'd destroyed something. Yet again. The beauty of the teacup disappeared and it had a different feel to it now. Slightly more malicious. Like it was fixed but it was waiting for someone to come by and do the job better. Obviously Rebekah was not that someone. She nestled her head into her shoulders and sighed. She glanced back at the teacup. She knew no matter how hard she tried to fix it it would not make a difference. But she notices the teacup's structural solidity and it's graceful posture. She admires that, and sits upright slightly and tries for a smile. The smile flashes like moonlight and it fools everyone, except the one person she wished it didn't. Matt sees through every moonlit grin and chuckle, but he doesn't mention the fact that he might be able to put teacup pieces back again, that he knows the ultimate secret in fixing broken teacups. But he is made up of silences, because courage has left him and Rebekah moves on. She moves on with her brokenness and she thinks she might be getting used to it.


End file.
